


Thank Life for Small Favors

by creativeone298



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 16:49:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5750806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creativeone298/pseuds/creativeone298
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Phasma gets invited to a gala on Starkiller Base. General Hux is the only other person she knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thank Life for Small Favors

Phasma, in all her years of training, had not prepared for any sort of social gatherings. Sure, she got along with her troops just fine, but First Order politicians and high-ranking military officials? That was another story. The First Order didn’t normally have any sort of galas; they put more of their finances in better places than those frivolities, but because Starkiller Base was almost armed and operational, some of the higher-ups figured it would be appropriate to have a celebration. Because Phasma was Captain in charge of the base, she was, to her knowledge, the only Stormtrooper invited.

She also didn’t normally concern herself with clothes; her armor, fatigues, and exercise clothes were all that she normally needed, but she knew that at formal events such as these, most people wear nicer regalia. She cursed herself as she paced around Starkiller Base, helping move some crates to make the job go faster. She figured that she could place an order for a dress uniform. She may need one if there were future events that she were invited to. She made a mental note to herself to order one that day, and kept walking.

Of course, there was also the question of who she would know. Most of her acquaintances were stormtroopers, or lower-class workers on Starkiller Base. She found them more humble. None of them would be at the gala. She made a quick mental run of who would be there. Likely some old generals, but the closest she knew to her would be General Hux. She had mixed feelings on the man; while his overall leadership was effective, he hadn’t seen a day of real battle in his life. However, seeing as he would be the only person she knew, she would have to stay close to him to not seem awkward or lower. 

Phasma didn’t think much of the gala in the next few days. She’d ordered her dress uniform and shoved it to the back of her mind. It got pushed rudely to the front when she looked at her calendar and saw her scrawl that she would need to go pick up her uniform and get ready for the gala. She sighed and got up and ready to run Starkiller Base. 

After the day was out, she decided that she should probably shower before she put on her new uniform; no sense in smelling terrible in front of people she needed to make a good impression on. She went through the process of getting ready, actually took care to comb her hair and make it look good out of the shower, and slipped on her dress uniform. It felt stiff and starched, better than her armor, worse than her fatigues. She studied her face and realized that the other female officers would likely be wearing makeup of sorts. She shrugged it off; she wasn’t there to look pretty, she was there because she had to be. 

The gala was being held on an upper deck, and after making sure she had her invitation, Phasma began the walk to her destination. She then wondered how she’d greet her fellow officers; she’d been trained as to how to address them militaristically, but never in a situation quite like this. She let the droid at the door scan her invitation and walked in. 

She never thought she’d see Starkiller Base, of all places, look festive, but here it was, decked out in rich silver and red, with an atmosphere that seemed cheerful and relaxed. She sighed and looked for her assigned table; what she was really looking forward to from this gala was the meal. Sure, she didn’t mind her nutritive beverage, but she’d always been curious as to what food tasted like, and from what she’d heard, it would be an experience of a lifetime. When she found her table, she found Hux filling one of the chairs positioned around it. Thank life for the small favors. 

She did wonder why he was sitting alone; he should know many of these people thanks to his father. 

“General.” she said, not quite sure how to initiate a conversation that wasn’t about her troops or construction. 

“Captain.” he replied, just as awkwardly. Phasma sighed and made another attempt to start a conversation.

“The music choice tonight is nice. It’s different from what I normally hear on the radio.” 

Hux seemed to get the hint this time; he sat up, folded his hands on the table and actually laughed. Phasma believed it was the first time she’d ever seen him do that. “I can imagine that the stormtroopers don’t listen to orchestral music on a day to day basis.”

“No, they tend to listen to whatever is on their favorite station. I don’t mind, most of the time, but it gets repetitive. Do the officers on deck listen to this sort of thing often?” Phasma teased lightly, hoping that they could have some human conversation. She had to pry into the stormtroopers in the same way before they started talking to her. 

“We don’t listen to much music; it would get in the way of productivity. We tried it once before. Our deck workers don’t usually argue much, but that day, I learned the music preference of many of our quietest.” 

“Well, sometimes the stormtroopers argue, but majority rules, except for when the majority feels nice.” 

The two went on like that, slowly easing into comfortable conversation. The alcohol made it a bit easier, but Phasma knew that she couldn’t get completely drunk (it’s not like she’d never had contraband alcohol before; she was responsible for sneaking it in during her younger days), and she was sure Hux knew that he couldn’t have a hangover the next day; they were expected to report bright and early. 

“I wonder though, why aren’t you with your father’s friends? Don’t they all know you?” Phasma asked, her filter slightly lowered.

Hux shook his head. “Look around. There’s barely any company our age. Most of these people gave me the ‘you’ve grown so much since I last saw you’ greeting. The last time I saw many of them is before I went to the academy. Of course I look older.” 

Phasma laughed heartily; this was something new to her, most of the people she’d trained under probably could not care less about how she’d grown, despite her doing a significant amount of it.

“I guess that’s the reason you’re sitting here and not dancing with some of those beautiful women.” she muttered, gesturing to an older lady who the years had not treated kindly.

Hux snorted, but kept quiet as the rest of the table began to sit down. After a few polite introductions of “this is Captain Phasma, she runs Starkiller Base and is in charge of the stormtroopers,” her brain began to go on autopilot.

She got introduced to many other high-ranking officers, and she thanked her lucky stars for her good memory. A few officers gave speeches about the glory of Starkiller Base, and she was waiting for Hux to get up and on the stage; after all, he was the General in charge of this whole operation. He stayed seated.

He must have seen her raise an eyebrow once the speeches were over with, because he nodded and leaned closer to her.

“I have one written for when we first fire the weapon. It’s really for everyone who worked on this base. Maybe it’ll be recorded, but I’d rather do it there.”

Phasma nodded in approval. She didn’t take Hux as the type to not suck up to the high brass.

The conversation got cut short when the food came, and seeing as she and Hux had been only been drinking First Order-approved nutritive beverages, their eyes lit up like it was Life Day. They looked at each other, and in a mutual agreement, knew they would only be concentrating on their food until it was finished.

After the food was said and done with, the music came on, much of the floor got up to dance. Phasma awkwardly took a drink. She never had been taught how to do so, and she certainly did not want to make a fool of herself in front of Hux. However, it was apparent that both of them were bored, and Phasma braced herself when Hux cleared his throat. 

“Could I have the next dance?” he muttered, but managed to look at her. 

“I can’t dance; I’d make a fool out of both of us.” she admitted, not wanting to skirt the issue.

“I can lead the two of us; you’ll just have to follow the way I move.” he said, getting up and holding out his hand.

She pushed herself out of the chair and stood up. The gawks from the rest of the table were nothing new to her; she was used to people not predicting her height. Hux dropped his hand and they walked to the edge of the dance floor.

“You’ll want to put your right hand on my shoulder and I’ll take your left.” he said, stepping across from her. He settled his left hand on her waist and took her remaining hand with his. “We’ll dance in a box-step pattern. Step back with your right foot, and to the left with your left. I’ll mirror you.”

She followed his further directions, eventually got into the rhythm, and relaxed. Alas, the song ended and she got ready to break apart. 

“You can stay with me; that first one was just practice.” 

Phasma wasn’t complaining; none of the other men were approaching her anyway. The next song started up, thankfully in the same pattern, and Hux led the two of them into the throng of people. She stepped in closer to him to avoid tripping over people’s hems, and he tensed up for a minute, then relaxed. She shrugged it off and kept going. 

The time flew by as the two periodically changed partners to remain inconspicuous, but always returned to each other. Hux took Phasma through faster tempos, and it turned out that she was good at learning on the spot. He’d told her it took him ages to master these dances at the academy; he was much slower than his peers. She’d replied that the practice had payed off and he was good now. 

They only noticed how long they’d been when most of the floor had cleared off and the band announced the last song of the night.

“Wow.” Phasma laughed, looking down at Hux. 

“I didn’t realize how long we’d done this.” he replied, meeting her eyes. 

“Your stamina is better than I thought.” 

Hux rolled his eyes at Phasma and pressed himself against her. 

This time, it was her turn to stiffen in surprise. She shrugged it off and figured that he must have some sort of plan, and she could ease herself out of his grip if she wanted to.

The song was slower, and their tiredness caused them to sway slowly, from side to side. She slipped her hand closer to his mid back. He slipped his farther down her waist, stopping at the lower spine. She realized that she didn’t want to get herself out of his grip; for all their differences, they really had fun that night and had more in common than she’d previously suspected. As the last strains of music filled the air, they broke apart, not wanting to seem overly clingy in front of the other officers. 

“May I walk you back to your quarters?” Hux asked, ever the gentleman. 

Phasma accepted, and they fell into an easy, albeit tired, stride. 

“That was enjoyable.” Phasma said, choosing her words carefully. She didn’t want her sudden warmth toward him to cause any drama or to not be reciprocated. 

“It was.”

The two walked in an awkward silence until they reached the door to her quarters. 

“I hope the morning isn’t too hard for you, Phasma.” Hux said, rubbing his neck.

“Same for you. Take care.” 

“Have a good sleep.” he said, giving a tender smile.

“Okay, get back to your quarters, or we’ll be here all night.” she laughed, gently shoving him backwards and closing the door.

Phasma hoped she’d have more time to talk to Hux; she needed to make sure that her pounding heart and warmth in her core had reason behind it besides the alcohol. 


End file.
